Poetry Archives - Page 2 of 25 - Sensitive Skin Magazine

A Hermit Has No Plural by Gabor G. Gyukics – Review

Ron Kolm

A Hermit Has No Plural by Gabor G. Gyukics, Singing Bone Press. A Hermit Has No Plural, a collection of poems by the great Hungarian writer, Gabor G. Gyukics, is wonderfully unique. It is a surrealist vision of a world...

The Gods

Jenny Seymore Montgomery

i. Pluto and Uranus. Shadows overhead at my birth during another nuclear test. Soon I will be blown across the kitchen by a toaster, blacken bulbs, sit in pits of Mount St. Helens’ ash, grieve the bulldozing of ever...

False Ceremony

Hal Sirowitz

False Ceremony On the morning of my Bar Mitzvah – the Jewish ceremony when a thirteen year old boy becomes a man – I jumped out of bed, ran into the bathroom, and locked the door. I lowered my pajama bot...

FOCUS

Joel Allegretti

FOCUS Kevin Spacey is disgraced! I hadn’t heard of Anthony Rapp, and my last Kevin movie was Beyond the Sea, from the fourth year of Bush II’s first term. In the 365 days of 2017, 346 mass shootings gave the na...

Transubstantiation

Bonny Finberg

Transubstantiation Cut from olive wood, the straining nails of hands to cross, the body arched in holy agony is ecstasy and so, the other way around. Once a year at Sacré Coeur, the Bo...

Prismed Autumn (an Imitation)

Robert C. Hardin

Prismed Autumn (an Imitation) You who denigrate the Fall as nature’s end: Have you beheld the brilliance of its dying? It is not cloaked in mourning, weighted by some sable hood, but nakedly chromatic, varie...

BECAUSE

Yuko Otomo

BECAUSE I. Because I love to say, “I love flowers because they are beautiful.” It sounds too simple, naïve & almost silly to express my fee...

The Rabbit and the Rat

Jokie X Wilson

The Rabbit and the Rat The stones are worn Although not quickly Insanity led the ocean to fall And rise again in revenge But with a peaceful motive at hand All went well for a short time Until the human control fell...

If the threat is a symbol

Christine Gardiner

The Winnowing

Michael Lindgren

The Winnowing is nigh. I heard the voices calling in the night I sensed the stream of ones & zeros flickering soundlessly. The keening word has been given handed down from on high How many, out of how...